


Keeping Him Occupied

by HollyeLeigh



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, CS movie, F/M, Jealousy, Past!Hook, Sexy Times, Smuff, Smut, cs smut, ouat 3x21, that damn bar wench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 18:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18744310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyeLeigh/pseuds/HollyeLeigh
Summary: CS 3x21 Canon Divergence: When Emma reached out to place a hand on Hook's thigh in order to keep him from leaving, she missed her mark and found a whole new way to keep him occupied.





	1. Keeping Him Occupied

**Author's Note:**

> Originally included in my Naughty CS Drabbles work, I have pulled this out as a stand alone due to all the yelling I received to continue it. Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

“Just two ships passing in the night, then?”

“Passing closely, I hope.”

“Speaking of ships, what do you say we leave this place, and I'll show you mine?”

“Wait.” Emma reached out to place a hand on his thigh in order to keep him from leaving. “How about we have a few drinks first?” she suggested coyly, missing his thigh altogether and resting her fingertips someplace else.

Hook’s eyes darkened as hers widened. She froze, unsure of what to do about her hand.

“Tell you what, love.” Hook’s voice to seem to drop a full octave, giving it a dark, sensual tone. Well, more sensual than normal. “We’ll stay and have a few more drinks, _if_ you keep doing _that_.”

He moved closer to her along the bench as he resumed his seat, causing her fingers to glide up the hardness beneath his leathers until she was cupping him in the palm of her hand. Emma warred with herself for several seconds before casually scanning the tavern to make sure no one was looking or would be able to see what was about to occur under their table. When she turned her eyes back to Hook, she wore a coquettish smile as she poured him another drink with her free hand while kneading him with the palm of the other.

A soft grunt resonated from the back of his throat, and his tongue glided along his bottom lip in an utterly sinful manner. He threw back the contents she’d poured out for him then moved his hand beneath the table. Grabbing hold of her wrist, he prompted her to switch it with her other hand, which he was guiding from where it rested atop the table with the curve of his hook. He then gathered her skirts and positioned them in such a way that her hand and his lap would be covered by their voluminous layers.

“Clever,” Emma mused, resuming the motion she’d been employing along his rigid length as he placed his hand at her hip with his arm resting along the outside of her skirts. “Done this before, have you?”

“A gentleman never tells,” he teased, slightly strained with his fingers digging into her hip.

Emma bit her lip against the smile creeping at its corners; a response of fond remembrance. “You’re a gentleman now, huh?”

His eyes narrowed on her and he crept a bit closer, his knee brushing up against her inner thigh. “I’m always a gentleman,” he purred.

Emma’s chest heaved from a fresh swell of desire, sending a rush of heat over her entire body. Hook’s eyes snapped to where her breasts were straining against the damned corset, his irises now a dark midnight color. Clumsily, Emma began to work on the fastenings of his pants, unfamiliar with their construction, but determined to remove the barrier between her hand and his cock.

A sultry sigh escaped him and his eyes fluttered shut when she finally freed him from the confines of his leathers. His hook scraped across the top of the table and dug in on one of the knot holes when she wrapped her hand around him. Hot and velvety and heavy in her hand, Emma flushed again at the thought of it filling _her_ instead of her grip and began stroking a languid rhythm up and down its length.

“Blood hell,” he bit out through clenched teeth, his hand gripping her waist a bit tighter. A rosy tint bloomed over his cheeks, and the chords in his neck tightened. “You’re a marvel, love.”

The throbbing ache between her legs became more prominent with each pump of her hand, causing her to shift in an attempt to press her legs together. The effort was hindered by Hook’s knee, still pressed against her thigh. Desperate to alleviate the ache, Emma tilted her pelvis forward and began grinding against Hook’s knee.

A smirk pulled at his lips and echoed itself along his brow as he gave her a smug stare. It didn’t last long, disrupted by a sudden succession of stuttering gasps when she rotated her hand and began to pump him faster. Her hips moved in time and her teeth dug into her lip, forcing back the moans collecting in the back of her throat.

Without warning, Hook’s hand grasped her hand and stilled it. “I think,” he began on labored breaths, “that it is high time we take this back to my ship.”

Lust and need took over, overriding her good sense, and she nodded, removing her hand with one last swipe of her thumb over the tip of his member, causing him to suck in a grunting breath.

“Minx,” he muttered while tucking himself back into his leathers, and doing up the fastenings only well enough to keep himself from springing out as they walked back to his ship. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Do you intend to punish me, Captain?” Emma taunted.

“Aye,” he replied, standing and offering her his hand to assist her off the bench. He pulled her into his chest, his lips inches from hers, and promised, “You’ll be begging for my mercy before I’m done with you.”

“I don’t beg,” she retorted sharply, meeting his heated gaze with a glint of defiance.

“Is that so?” His brow cocked up his forehead, and a feral grin took over his face. “Well, I do so love a challenge.”

Hook pulled her towards the exit, and the cool night air did little to relieve the heat of desire she knew was radiating off her body. A rough tug of her hand had her stumbling into a dark alley and pressed against a stone wall just out of sight of anyone that might pass by. Hook’s lips latched onto the juncture between her neck and jaw, and her knees nearly gave out.

“I thought… oh,” Emma gasped when he pulled her earlobe between his teeth and flicked it with his tongue. “I thought we were going to your ship?”

“Aye, love. We are,” he assured her. His breath sent a quiver of pleasure through her which settled wantonly between her legs. God, if he could make her react like that with just his breath, she could only imagine what he could do with his tongue… or any other part of him, for that matter. “I thought you might enjoy a bit of a detour.”

While his lips set a path back down her neck, his hand rucked up her skirts until he could slip it beneath and find her leg. “No stockings? You are a naughty lass, aren’t you?” His hand slid up her leg to her hip where he toyed with the edges of her panties. “Intriguing,” he murmured against her neck, continuing his tactile examination of her underwear. “I don’t think I’ve ever come across a garment such as this before.” Pulling his lips from her neck, his glassy, lust filled eyes roamed her face as he pondered aloud, “Just who are you, love?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she answered breathlessly.

“Perhaps, I would.”

His mouth descended and began to plunder hers, eager and demanding, while his fingers slipped beneath her panties and made contact with the wetness pooling there. He groaned into her mouth and she thrust her hips forward, urging him along in his ministrations.

“So wet,” he rasped into her skin, now paying his special attentions to the other side of her neck.

His fingers glided through her folds, familiarizing themselves with her sex, while the heel of his palm applied a rocking pressure against her clit. Emma’s head fell back against the stones, and she arched further into his touch. She jumped a little at the feel of cool metal against her leg, his hook prompting her to sling her leg over his hip so he could better attend to her; a prompting she happily complied with, and a cry of pleasure escaped her when he slid a finger inside.

“Hush, love,” Hook admonished softly. “You’ll attract the wrong sort with those noises, and I am _not_ the sharing type.”

His words sobered her slightly. She most definitely did not want to draw attention to their activities, especially when she considered the fact that _her_ Hook... no, _not_ hers, um… the fact that _Killian_ would start to worry and come looking for her at some point. All those concerns went flying out of her head when another finger sank into her and his thumb did something miraculous over her clit.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his words caressing her collarbone, along with his teeth.

Emma pried a hand off the wall she was anchoring herself to and slid it between them, intending to match the way he was pumping his fingers into her, with him in her hand.

“Ah, ah,” he chastised playfully, his hook catching her wrist within its curve and pulling her hand away. “As a gentleman, I must insist. Ladies first.”

His tongue sent sparks skittering across her skin, pebbling her flesh in its wake as it traced her collarbone then over the swell of her breasts until it dipped into her cleavage. Emma’s breaths came in labored bouts from the feel of his fingers frantically coaxing her to higher levels of ecstacy. A twinge of exquisite pain from where he was now sucking a brand into her cleavage, mixed with the precision of his hand had her desperate for release.

“Hook,” she breathed.

“Aye?” he replied, his smug smirk nearly audible. “What is it, love?”

“I...I need.” She wet her lips and swallowed.

“I know,” he said. “All you have to do is say please.” Emma groaned. The bastard would make her beg for it. “Just one little please, and I’ll give you want you need.”

To hell with her pride. It wasn’t like he would remember any of this anyway… she hoped… kind of.

“Please,” she moaned. “Hook, please!”

“As you wish.”

His words had her tumbling off the precipice, and she crashed into a sensation of complete bliss. She knew Hook had been uttering words of praise and encouragement in her ear, but none of them registered as she came off her high. At some point she must have grasped onto his upper arms for support. She let her head fall forward against his shoulder and his hooked arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he removed his hand from between her legs.

“I trust the lady is satisfied,” he murmured into her hair. Emma hummed in response which made his chest shake from the chuckle resonating there. “Not too satisfied that you would refuse to join me on my ship for a _nightcap_ , I hope?” He rolled his hips into her at the mention of a nightcap, leaving little doubt in Emma’s mind as to the type of _refreshment_ he was referring to.

Lifting her head, she looked up at him and saw anticipation dance in his eyes. Surely, they had time for a nightcap. She was supposed to keep him _occupied_ , after all.

“Lead the way, Captain.”

~/~

“Are you kidding me?!” Emma exclaimed, eyes wide as she took in Hook’s collapsed form on the floor. Knocked clean out from the right hook Killian had delivered against his jaw. “How is _that_ not gonna have consequences?”

“He was asking for it,” Killian defended. “And, like I said, he'll blame the rum.

Now let's get out of here.”

Emma went to clamor back up the hatch steps when Killian called out to her.

“Swan?” The drawled, slightly accusatory tone in his voice made her stop with one foot positioned on the first rung of the hatch steps. “Care to explain why the laces of his pants are loosened in such a manner?”

Slowly, she turned from the ladder and faced him, a betraying heat rushing to her cheeks.

Killian sauntered forward until she was pressed against the hard edges of the steps. His forget-me-not eyes searched her guilt riddled face then flicked down. The muscle in his jaw jumped when he caught sight of the mark his past self had left on her skin. Looking back up at her through his dark lashes, he leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers, and whispered, “Something you care to tell me, Swan? Or… perhaps you’d like to _show_ me instead?”

The End


	2. Show and Tell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much love and thanks to my naughty nonny and darkcolinodonorgasm on Tumblr for all their ideas and prompts that made part two possible!

* * *

 

Loud booms, like cannon fire, sounded from the distance, breaking the tense atmosphere Killian’s observations and inquiries had created.

“Fireworks,” he muttered. “A predictable excess of pomp and grandeur.”

“What?”

“Midas’ ball,” he reminded her. “It’s beginning.”

“I guess show-and-tell will have to wait then.”

Killian’s brows briefly knitted together in confusion before understanding seemed to dawn on him as to what her strange turn of phrase meant.

“Aye, love,” he said intently, his forget-me-not-eyes scorching her with the heat of their gaze. “We will most definitely resume _show-and-tell_ at the earliest convenience.”

~/~

Emma had to suppress the continued flare of appreciation that kept sparking in the part of herself that had always considered Killian a kindred spirit. It was difficult when she couldn’t help but compare the way she’d stolen her bug to the way he’d _procured_ a carriage for them to travel in. The plan was to wait on the outskirts of Midas’ lands, so they could oversee Snow’s infiltration of the castle from afar. They were fortunate to meet Smee along the way, to man the reins, but now that both of them sat in the tight quarters of the closed carriage Emma had to suppress much more than appreciation for the man sitting across from her.

“How long will it take to get there?” Emma asked, her gaze fixed outside the carriage so she wouldn’t have to face Killian, even though there was nothing to see in the blackness of night.

“Not long by Enchanted Forest standards,” he replied. “Enough time for you to answer a few of my questions, though.”

Emma sighed and closed her eyes. She knew the reckoning would come, the moment when she’d have to explain herself to him. Wound him with the story of how she’d allowed his past self to take liberties with her when all he’d ever received was _a_ _one time thing._

“Or, perhaps, enough time for us to engage in this _show and tell_ activity you referred to earlier?”

Her eyes snapped open at the deep, sultry tone of his voice, sounding _exactly_ as Hook had when he’d agreed to stay at the tavern so long as she kept her hand…

The same challenge danced in his eyes when she finally met them with her own. The same utterly sinful swipe of his tongue along his lower lip drew her attention to his mouth as she bit down on her own lip.

“Tell me, Swan. How exactly did you keep my past self… _occupied_?” Killian murmured seductively. “Or would you rather _show_ me?”

Blood rushed in her ears as her heart rate picked up, and her chest heaved a stuttered breath that now drew his gaze with the enticement of her corseted chest. The unfulfilled promise she thought would await her at the _Jolly Roger_ earlier fluttered low in her belly and beat a rhythm of want between her legs.

Shifting over to the plush bench seat Killian occupied, she turned her body to face him as she had with Hook in the tavern.

“It started with shots of rum,” she began, flicking a coy look up through her lashes as she recounted the more innocent details of their time together. “Then he offered to show me his ship, and started to stand. I knew I couldn’t let him leave just yet, so I reached out my hand to place on his thigh in order to stop him, and…”

“And?” Killian prompted.

“I missed.”

“You missed?” he parroted with perplexity. “What do you mean, you missed?”

“I mean,” Emma reached forward and re-enacted the motion, settling her fingers in the same place they’d landed on Hook. “I missed.”

Killian’s nostrils flared from the sudden intake of breath her touch caused. “I see.” He cleared his throat, his voice having scaled a full octave from the unexpected action, and with a more controlled resonance, purred, “And then what?”

“And then...” her words fell away, letting her hand answer by way of kneading the growing hardness through his leathers.

A familiar grunt resonated in the back of his throat and his eyes fluttered shut, the stiffness of his member increasing with each roll of her palm.

“I take it that,” he panted, “things didn’t progress too much farther within the tavern.”

“You… _he_ suggested we take things back to the ship, but we didn’t quite make it before he pulled me into an alley for a _detour_.”

Killian’s eyes snapped opened, his cheeks already flushed, the chords in his neck strained every bit as much as his counterpart’s had been. Something wild flashed in his eyes before he growled, “What sort of _detour_?”

Emma’s hand stilled at his tone and she worried she may have gone too far with her teasing, because she did know better this time around. The man was jealous. Despite the fact that it had technically been him to drag her into the dark alleyway, it hadn’t been _him._ Before she could reply, the carriage bounced violently over a series of bumps, tossing them around, pitching Killian into her, landing them prone against the velvet covered seat with him splayed atop her.

Their eyes met. His no longer carried the flare of jealousy, but a dark smolder remained within their blue depths. Flicking his gaze to her lips he asked, “Was it during this detour of yours that he left you with this souvenir?”

She shivered when the cool prick of his hook grazed over the mark Hook had left on her cleavage.

“Yes,” she breathed, barely audible to her own ears, but the clenching of his jaw told her he’d heard.

“Will you permit me to give you a souvenir of my own?” he murmured, his lips so close that Emma was praying for one good jolt of the carriage to bring them together. “Seeing as how this is _our_ adventure together, and he’s already played his part.”

Emma wet her lips and swallowed. “I suppose it would only be fair,” she reasoned, causing that feral grin to break out over Killian’s face. He slid down her body, his knees landing on the floor of the carriage and began gathering up her skirts. “What are you doing?” Emma exclaimed, wide eyed and breathless, because she knew _exactly_ what he was doing… or was about to do.

“I’m not leaving my mark in the same place he did,” Killian protested, then smirked. “Nor whilst doing the same things. I know very well what he pulled you into that alleyway to do, and although I am sure he left you more than satisfied, I can’t very well let the memory of _him_ linger in your thoughts, now can I?”

Any further protests (not that there would have been any) were halted when Emma felt the simultaneous feel of cool, smooth metal and warm, rough skin running up her calves from his hook and his hand. Soft, sensual kisses were placed along the inside of her knee and continued to move up her thigh. She found it difficult to draw in a full breath, whether from the restrictive nature of the corset or the thick tension of the air around her, she couldn’t say. Killian’s nose skimmed the sensitive expanse of her inner thigh, morphing those difficult breaths into anticipatory pants as want flooded her body, overflowing at the juncture he was slowly making his way towards.

A muffled, appreciative hum vibrated against her skin and made its way through the many layers of her skirt. “The scent of you is intoxicating, Swan,” he murmured reverently before nibbling the tender flesh just outside the area she was desperate for him to reach.

Emma braced herself against the rocking of the carriage, one arm stretched overhead with her palm pressed into the side paneling while the other sought out contact with the man setting her ablaze as he sucked his own personal brand into her skin. Pulling her skirts up to her waist, she glanced down her body and met the midnight hue of Killian’s eyes after he delicately kissed the newly bruised area.

“I knew your world had its perks,” Killian praised when his gaze fell back to the cotton fabric concealing her intimacy from him. “These make things rather convenient, don’t they?”

He didn’t give Emma a chance to respond before pushing the garment aside, spreading her folds with his fingers, and lapping a wide swath with his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut and Emma’s head fell back onto the plush seat. A swell of glorious relief from the throbbing ache in her core swept through her, but was quickly replaced by a mounting torment of pleasure from each swipe and flick of Killian’s tongue.

His hook made contact with the heated flesh of her chest, the coolness pebbling her skin which in turn hardened her nipples when he pulled her corset down with it’s crook, exposing her breasts. Canting her hips, Emma moaned when his tongue dipped into her center, thrusting obscenely while his fingers massaged her clit.

“Oh, my god, Killian,” she groaned. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

He hummed in agreement, a groaning vibration that sent a cascade of luxuriant tremors through her. Burying her hand in his hair, she rocked her hips against his tongue as it resumed swirling and fluttering over her clit until she was slammed by the unexpected force of her orgasm, forcing her back to arch off the carriage seat while she clung to Killian’s locks with a silent scream on her lips.

The carriage began to slow, and Killian busied himself righting her garments while she remained blissfully reclined.

“We’ve arrived, Captain,” Smee announced from the coachman’s seat.

_We have, indeed, Mr. Smee,_ Emma mused to herself, a bubble of laughter catching at the back of her throat. _We have, indeed._

~/~

“Watch the mocking. I’m actually getting the hang of this.” Emma flourished her arm, maneuvering her way across the dance floor with more assured steps. Despite the added weight of the new red gown, courtesy of Gol, er… Rumplestiltskin, she felt lighter than she had since… um, ever? Maybe?

“I’m not mocking you, Swan,” Killian insisted, kneeling in preparation for the next sequence. “I’m just thinking about what you said in Storybrooke, about not being a princess.”

“Really?” Emma took his hand and let him lead her around his knelt form, sassing, “You get my first real dance, at my first royal ball, and all you can say is _I told you so_?”

Killian stood and took both her hands in his. “I believe what I’m trying to say, Your Highness,” his bow held more reverence than the simple dance step required, and when he wrapped his arm around her to begin their next pass around the ballroom Emma felt her heart flutter erratically, “is that you appear to be a natural.”

So much had occurred between them that she knew things could never go back to how they were before they fell through the portal. Gazing at Killian’s joyous smile, the one she knew she was mirroring back to him, the twinkle that sparked in his forget-me-not eyes from the glittering candlelight all around them, Emma knew she would never want to.

“Yeah, well. No one dances the waltz at parties back home, so I guess I got lucky... finding a partner who knew what he was doing.”

Killian’s head cocked slightly to the side and his eyes searched hers, reading the unspoken things she meant with her words, like the open book she was to him. His smile widened and he pulled her in a little closer, probably closer than was appropriate, ever the scoundrel pirate. Although, in his _Prince Charles_ garb, he looked more the dashing rapscallion.

Emma’s pulse quickened when she thought about what things would be like when they returned to Storybrooke, and she quickly turned her mind back to their current situation. They’d have to _get_ _back_ to Storybrooke before any of the fun could continue, because it sure as hell had already begun.

“I wonder if Snow is here yet?” Emma murmured quietly in Killian’s ear.

“She’s not,” he answered with a tone of knowing. “She won’t be along for some time yet.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I, as one thief to another, advised her of the best time to infiltrate a castle whilst a celebration was occuring.”

Emma’s brow quirked, along with the upward tilt of the corner of her mouth. “Have much experience breaking into castles during balls, do you?”

“Pirate, love,” he whispered conspiratorially with a wink.

Emma let out an amused huff and shook her head. “I can only imagine the amount of jewels and virtues you absconded with over the years.”

Killian chuckled, and his cheeks flushed. If his hand wasn’t currently wrapped around her waist, she knew it would be scratching the back of his ear.

“What? No boasting about all the treasuries plundered or princesses’ you’ve left thoroughly debauched?” she teased.

“Honestly?” he said in that deep timbre that made her insides quiver. “There’s only one princess I’m interested in thoroughly debauching these days.”

Emma swallowed then wet her lips, making his gaze flick down to her mouth and his pupils dilate ever so slightly. “You’re sure Snow won’t be here for awhile?”

Killian nodded, his eyes back on hers with a flame a desire flickering in their depths.

“Wanna get some air?” she suggested.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he growled, taking her hand and leading them off the dance floor and out of the ballroom.

He navigated them through a few corridors before pulling her into a darkened alcove that led out to one of the parapets. Concealed by the deep cleft in the passthrough, he pressed her against the wall and crashed his lips to hers with fervent need. Hot damn, could the man kiss. The slant of his mouth over hers, and the demanding way his tongue sought entrance past its seam had desire overtaking her once again. Each of them worked with mutual eagerness and urgency to remove or undo whatever was necessary to reach the places both were longing for the other’s touch.

“Bloody Crocodile,” Killian muttered while fumbling with the layers of petticoats and ribbons used to keep her Enchanted Forest _delicates_ in place. “Would it have killed him to allow you keep your own undergarment?” Emma giggled at Killian’s disgruntlement over Rumplestiltskin’s clothing choices for her, as if he’d done it intentionally just to spite the pirate. “I don’t even have my bloody hook to make short work of these flounces with.”

“Here,” Emma offered. “You undo you, and I’ll undo me.”

Killian grin wickedly. “I assure you, love. _I’ll_ be your undoing.”

“Cocky bastard,” Emma said, rolling her eyes, which widened slightly when they landed on his _cocky bastard_ already freed from his trousers.

“You were saying?” he smirked.

“Shut up and give me a hand with this damn petticoat.”

A few rips of torn linen later and Killian lifted Emma up to wrap her legs around his waist while bracing herself against the wall behind her. She had to be heavy with the added weight of all that material, but then remembered Hook’s quip of having carried rum barrels heavier than her. The sensation of Killian’s cock slipping through her drenched folds cast out all thoughts of Hook. There was only Killian. Killian, who had come back for her in New York. Killian, who had fought alongside her against the Wicked Witch. Killian, who had been there to help Henry after Neal’s death. Killian, who had followed her through a time portal.

Just Killian.

“Are you sure you want this, Emma?” Killian asked. His voice was husky, heavy with need, but held a tone of assurance that he’d stop if she wasn’t one hundred percent sure.

“I’m sure,” she replied, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I want _you_ , Killian.”

“Thank the bloody gods,” he breathed, lining himself up at her entrance.

Emma held on, arms wrapped around his neck and shoulders as he slid in, inch by glorious inch. His hips rolled against hers in a slow and reverential rhythm, their foreheads pressed together as they stared into each other’s eyes.

“You feel so bloody good, Swan,” Killian murmured, making Emma’s eyes shut so she could focus on the delicious drag of his length against her walls. After several long, luxurious moments of Killian filling her to depths she didn’t know she’d possessed, she could feel his hold on her become unsteady. “I’m not sure how much longer I can hold-”

“Set me down.” Though she’d been the one to tell him to do it, she whimpered when he pulled out of her completely in order to set her back on her feet.

“What do you have in mind, love?” Killian questioned.

Emma turned her back to him and started to gather her skirts back up, lifting them to her waist before bending forward and placing a hand against the wall. “I think it’s time for some plundering, pirate,” she cheeked over her shoulder. She watched, mesmerized as he pumped himself a few times before stepping up behind her with a look of sin on his face.

“As you wish,” he growled into her ear, sending a cascade of shivers down her spine.

They moaned in unison as he sheathed himself in her depths once again, the sound reverberating off the stone walls and stilling them both to make sure they had not been heard. Killian began snapping his hips against her once he was assured they’d gone undetected, and Emma had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure. With his wooden hand at her hip, he reached around and palmed her breast through the corseted top of her gown. What she wouldn’t give to feel his calloused fingers pinching her nipples right now. Enchanted Forest clothes really were the worst.

Moving his hand to grasp the top of her shoulder, his thrusts became more forceful, quickening in their urgency. An urgency Emma felt building inside of herself when she shifted her hips allowing him to hit her _there_. Dear god she was going to come, and hard.

“Emma, I”m… I’m,” Killian grunted on panting breaths.

“I know,” she replied. “It’s okay. You can stay inside me. Don’t pull out.”

If their moans and words didn’t alert any nearby guards as to their activities, the slap of their bodies as Killian frantically pounded into her surely would. Emma couldn’t bring herself to care when his hips jerked from his release, sending a burst of pleasure sweeping through her with greater intensity than she’d felt in the carriage.

Breathless, sated, and in absolutely no hurry to move, Emma couldn’t help the sound of protest that left her when Killian pulled out a second time, this time leaving a wake of warmth running down her thighs. Not that she minded that sensation. It was an altogether different type of souvenir, and one she was glad only Killian had left her with.

“So,” Killian said after they’d done their best to _not_ look as though they had just been fucking in a dark alcove of the castle. “Your first royal ball, your first waltz, and now your first thorough debauchery by a pirate… I’d say I’ve given you the full royal experience, eh _Princess_?”

Emma smiled and bit her lip at the teasing swagger of his brows. “I’d say so,” she agreed. “Remind me to return the favor when we get back to Storybrooke.”

Killian pulled her into his arms with an intrigued look upon his brow. “What sort of experience will you be giving me in Storybrooke?”

“A modern one,” she rasped huskily. “One that includes some _show and tell_ … the battery operated kind.”

She could tell from his expression that he had no idea what she was talking about and Emma couldn’t wait to get home to show him. They just had to-

“Snow White! The bandit Snow White has been spotted in the castle!”

Yeah… that.

The End


End file.
